Russia's Birthday Present
by EvanescingSky
Summary: Belarus is determined to get what she wants-so she takes Russia to a shady nightclub for his birthday and prepares to put her plan into action. Dark!Hetalia RusBel


Rated for: Drugs, alcohol, sex, incest (if that counts during Hetalia), cursing.

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><p>Russia's Birthday Present<p>

"Oh, Belarus, it's so colorful!" Russia exclaimed, looking around the nightclub from where they stood on the sidewalk. It wasn't a super-popular one, so it wasn't very crowded, but it had all the flashing lights and pulsating beats of the typical nightclub.

"Happy Birthday big brother," Belarus said quietly. "Shall we?" She took Russia's hand and led him into the club, carefully weaving around the jerking, jumping dancers towards the bar. The music seemed to pound into her head and body until it was part of the throbbing beats.

"It's too bad Yekaterina couldn't be here," Russia lamented. Belarus frowned. She had purposefully threatened her older sister out of coming to Russia's birthday "party".

"Yes…I can't believe she wouldn't come," Belarus said, settling down on a bar stool and motioning for Ivan to join her. It meant she had to let go of his hand, which she didn't like, but it was worth it for her plan.

"At least I have you," Russia said, smiling at Belarus. She offered him a small, strangely disconcerting smile in return and patted his shoulder.

"You know I'll stay with you forever, big brother," she said. Russia nodded and scooted a bit further away before ordering their drinks. He made to put some money down on the counter, but Belarus put her hand over his.

"It's my treat, big brother," she announced. "I don't want you paying for anything tonight."

Russia knocked back his first serving of vodka, while Belarus drank more slowly. But she kept slapping down money on the counter so that Russia could keep his glass filled with whatever tickled his fancy. At some point, he stopped caring how close they got and would lean right in with his forehead against Belarus's to speak to her. The music was getting louder as the hour got later and the club started to fill up. Every time he brought their heads together to say something, Belarus felt her heart skip a beat.

Belarus could feel the world begin to wobble beneath her unsteady feet and she knew that if she was this bad, Russia was worse. He'd been pounding vodka for at least an hour and a half now. The music was an incessant, repetitive beat that was merely a backdrop to Belarus's thoughts, which all pertained to Russia. She was memorizing his face, every curve of it. The way his strong jawline swooped down, the sparkle in his purple eyes, the exact path of his slender eyebrows. She loved every detail.

"Come dance with me," she slurred, sliding off her stool and dragging Russia out onto the dance floor. He stumbled after her, too hammered to protest. He gave her a ridiculously wide smile and started to copy the movements of the drugged, drunk or otherwise uncoordinated dancers that populated the flashing, changing dance floor. Belarus sort of swayed from side to side, but planned her next approach as she watched Russia with her unblinking blue eyes.

The flashing lights made the whole place feel otherworldly, as though it were something from an old sci-fi movie. Even when Belarus closed her eyes she could still see the patterns glittering against her eyelids. It began to give her a slight headache, but she ignored it.

To her surprise, it was Russia who initiated the touching between them. He reached out and took her hands, giving her the opportunity to immediately press herself against him and rest her head against his chest. She could still feel his heartbeat, even with the overpowering music that slammed through the building. The heat was beginning to make her uncomfortable and Russia felt like a furnace as he hadn't removed his coat or his scarf (much to Belarus's annoyance), but she wasn't moving away anytime soon.

She looked up at him and met his eyes. A long look passed between them. Russia smiled distantly and pressed a kiss against her forehead. Lighting shot through her body, all the way down to her toes, but it wasn't enough.

"Wait here, brother," she murmured in his ear. She had to stand on tip-toe to reach. Then she slithered off through the crowd, back to the bar, where she got two more shots. In each, she slipped a pinch of something from her pocket before returning to Russia, who was still turning on the dance floor. "Happy Birthday Ivan!" she said loudly, handing him one. They toasted and then knocked back their shots. It took a few minutes, but then things started to get really crazy.

The whole world seemed far away and all the sounds came to her through a warped shield. The lights of the room seemed even brighter and appeared to blend together and drift up towards the ceiling. Sometimes things happened that didn't make sense. Belarus caught a glimpse of a long-legged pixie making out with a faun on a bench through the legs of the dancers. She heard her mother calling her name and then cursing out her father. At one point, she was sure it was snowing inside the nightclub.

The hallucinations didn't bother her. Russia was still right in front of her, holding her. Sometimes he exclaimed nonsensical things; relating his own hallucinations, but Belarus ignored this. She focused on the feel of his heartbeat against the side of her head. The world felt like it was both floating and spinning beneath her feet. Several times she staggered and almost fell, but Russia caught her. Once she lost him.

He peeled away from her for a moment and vanished into the crowd and because of the drugs, she didn't notice at first. As soon as she did, she panicked. She made to go look for him, but was cut off by two men. One of them said something to her, but she didn't make it out.

"I have to go," she said as clearly as she could. Her words were slow and confused to the men; a clear sign she was on something and therefore easy.

"You have to stay, pretty lady," one said, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder. The force of it rocked Belarus's petite frame.

"I have to go!" she repeated, more urgently. She tried to pull away, but stumbled backwards and was grabbed by the second man.

"I have somewhere we can go," he said in a predatory purr. Dimly, Belarus recognized that this was very bad. He reached his hands around her and squeezed her breasts until she yelped with pain.

"Let me go!" she shrieked.

"Are you hurting my little sister, da?" came a voice. Belarus's heart leaped with joy; she thought it might burst.

"Hey man, back off," the first man grumbled. "It's a dance club. We're just trying to have some fun."

"She doesn't look like she's having fun," Russia pointed out, nodding to Belarus.

"She's just being difficult," the second man said.

"I think you're trying to hurt her," Russia decided. He pulled his pipe from his jacket and smacked the second man on the head with it. He made a swing at the first man, but he was too drunk and missed. Fortunately, they were cowards. They ran off, screaming curses at Russia; that he was "a crazy mother fucker", but Belarus had never been more proud. She latched onto him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his torso.

"You saved me, brother," she whimpered.

"I'll always protect you, da? I'll never let anyone hurt my Natalia," Russia replied fondly, stroking her hair. "Your love is something you chose to give. Not to men like that."

"I chose you!" Belarus cried. "I give my love to you, brother!" At the time, it sounded like the best declaration of love she'd ever heard. She leaned up and pressed her lips against Russia's. He tripped backwards until he was up against a wall. He made soft protests; easily smothered by the pressure of Belarus's mouth. The room was spinning and the music was matching up with his heartbeat and the whole world seemed crazy-he was sure he'd seen General Winter run naked down the street when he was outside throwing up. So he gave. He gave and kissed Belarus back and she responded with such enthusiasm she slammed his heat against the wall, unable to express her glee at his acceptance.

"I love you big brother," she panted. "Ivan." His name sounded so beautiful on her tongue, as it always did. Russia gave her a confused look mingled with some kind of love.

"I love you too, Natalia." She moved forward and they kissed again, passionately. Sweat was beading at her hairline and along the line of her bra- it was much too hot and the kissing was driving her body temperature up wildly. Her cheeks were red with the heat and Russia's hands burned on her waist.

"I know a place," she said when they broke apart for air. She took his hand once more and led him through the jostling, squawking crowd and up a rickety set of old stairs to a beat up room with only a bed, a bare bulb and an ancient dresser for furniture. She grabbed Russia by the front of his jacket as he closed the door behind them and kissed him violently on the mouth. Russia, drunk with vodka and drugged by his sister, knew nothing except that her passion was unmistakable and unquenchable, so he met it with his own. She clawed her way to the bed, hauling Russia behind her and at last-at LAST- got that blasted fucking scarf off of him. His pipe clattered against the wooden floor. Then there was nothing between her and her beloved Russia.

Nothing existed but Russia's skin against hers, the weight of Russia's body on top of hers, the sound of Russia's ragged breathing in her ear. Even his moans and cries of passion were lost to her-she couldn't tell you what it was he'd said. Only that he was happy, and he was with her. She was sweltering with heat, so Russia opened up a window, afraid she might overheat and be sick. When they were done, he collapsed on top of her, crushing the breath out of her small chest.

"Ivan," she whispered, for some reason reluctant to raise her voice. "I can't…breathe…" Russia grunted and rolled off of her, instantly falling asleep against the dirty pillow. At some point, another couple barged through the door, but Belarus gave them such an aggressive look, along with reaching for her knife, they ran right back out and shut the door behind them.

When at last the chilly night air had cooled the sweat on her body, Belarus tugged the sheets up over her waist and snuggled up against Russia's back.

"I love you big brother," she mumbled in his ear, knowing he was asleep but wanting to express the sentiment nonetheless. She rested her head on the pillow behind Russia's, briefly pressing her nose into his silvery hair. "Happy birthday, Ivan." With the glowing of success in her heart, Belarus blacked out.

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><p>I may continue this and turn it into a multi-chapter fic...I haven't decided yet. Thoughts? Comments greatly appreciated!<p>

EDIT: I ended up continuing this, though this peice still stands as a vignette. This is the link to the rest of the story: .net/s/7401158/1/Seeking_Solace


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